


Ever Thine. Ever Mine. Ever Ours.

by HermioneGranger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, romione
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 06:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermioneGranger/pseuds/HermioneGranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger's relationship after the Great Battle of Hogwarts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blame

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This is my first ever piece of FanFiction, so forgive me if it's not up to scratch. I adore Ron and Hermione, they're my One True Pairing above all, and 20 years later just wouldn't suffice, so here goes! Reviews and whatnot would be marvelous, criticism is most welcome. Thanks for reading!

Talking to Charlie was always a pleasure for Hermione, of all of the Weasleys, excluding Ron of course, she found his conversations so very intriguing. His talk of foreign lands and magical creatures fascinated her. Though alike his siblings Charlie bored easily and soon retreated to the kitchen to satisfy his stomach, again, much like his siblings. This left Hermione alone in the small living room of the Burrow, to which she could now comfortably call home.

She often found herself alone in the house full of people as they busied their selves with menial tasks to give themselves purpose. Hermione understood that if they were to sit, and let their minds wander they would find themselves thinking of Fred and all of the other losses they had encountered during the past months, and that was just too much to bear.

Flashes of red hair frequently passed her vision in a blur as the Weasleys dashed about the house, Harry too would occasionally pass through the seating area as he was also currently residing in the Burrow. There was one red head and freckled face, however, she knew would not be making an appearance. Ron had retreated to his room since the family, Harry, and herself had returned from Hogwarts, four days ago. No one had bothered him. Mrs. Weasley had advised against it, explaining that Ron had his own methods of coping and that it was best to let him deal with his grief alone for the meantime.

“Hermione, dear, could you run upstairs and fetch Ginny, tea’s almost ready” Mrs. Weasley asked softly. Hermione noted the remarkable change in features. Her eyes were sunken and there was a vague far away look in them.

“Yes, of course. Would you like me to get the others too? I think George and Harry are up there”. She replied.

“That would be lovely dear, thank you ever so much.” Hermione smiled faintly at Mrs. Weasley and raised herself off of the settee.

When she had climbed the first of many rickety flights of stairs she knocked on Ginny’s bedroom door. There was no answer although she heard muffled voices through the wooden door. Very gently she twisted the handle and pushed open the door just enough to poke her head through. Two figures perched on Ginny’s bed turned quickly in her direction and jumped fleetingly apart. Hermione’s cheeks flushed as she realized she had interrupted one of Harry and Ginny’s private moments.

“I-I m so sorry, um, well, um” Harry and Ginny raised their eyebrows expectantly at Hermione, whom had never felt quite so embarrassed.”Your mum, she’s um, looking for. D-Dinners ready” She spluttered out and clumsily slipped out of the door frame.

Hermione knew that Harry and Ginny were a couple now. She had known about Harry’s feelings before he had even admitted them to himself, so why was she so perplexed about the scene that had just unfolded?

She began to analyse her reaction as she climbed another flight of stairs when George rushed past her, making her chain of thoughts disperse.

“Oh, George? Dinner’s ready. You haven t seen the others have you?” She asked.

“Ron’s still sulking in his room and I think Bill and Fleur are in the garden.” He replied.

“He’s not sulking, he’s mourning.” Hermione defended Ron. Sure George had lost more than his brother, he had lost his twin. His other half, and it was devastating, but there was no need to be so insensitive Hermione thought. George had clearly ignored Hermione’s response and had began descending the stairs.

Hermione gazed up towards Ron’s attic room contemplating whether or not she should visit him. She hadn’t uttered a word to him, since their kiss in the Chamber. After Fred’s death she didn’t want to impose. Without really knowing Hermione started climbing the stairs to Ron’s room, when she got to the door her hand hovered hesitantly over the handle. Something inside Hermione prevented her from turning the door knob and facing Ron. She slowly backed away, cautiously making her steps light as not to alert Ron of her presence.

When Hermione entered the kitchen all but one of the Weasleys were seated at the long dining table. Hermione took her place next between Fleur and Harry. The two glanced at each other, smiling gingerly.

“I’m so sorry about earlier, Harry. I should have knocked.” Hermione felt her cheeks warm at the image of Harry and Ginny jumping apart like guilty lovers, which in actual fact, they were.

“Could you pass the pepper please, Hermione.” Hermione thought that perhaps he hadn’t heard her, with the noise coming from the other end of the table she wouldn t be surprised. But Harry gave her a knowing look and she understood that he was choosing to disregard the incident completely. Hermione like this idea.

“Harry, I’m worried about Ron. He hasn’t left his room in days, and he’s refusing to talk to anyone. Ginny said he won t even acknowledge anyone. Harry, he hasn’t even come down to eat!”

“I know. I’ll go talk to him after tea, okay?” Harry gave her a reassuring smile, although Hermione was knew he was just as worried as herself. They had never seen Ron in such a state, and it frightened them.

“Yes, thank you.” Though not completely satisfied by this, Hermione would have to make do. She could either attempt to console Ron herself, or take up Harry’s offer. She preferred the latter.

Harry politely excused himself after dessert, Hermione gave him a tentative smile as he passed her and began ascending the stairs to Ron’s room. In his absence Hermione helped clear away the dirty plates and cutlery. Harry still hadn’t returned when she had finished thirty minutes later. Whilst she waited for Harry’s return she settled in an arm chair in the living room with the Weasley’s, striking up a conversation with Fleur. Hermione was only half listening to what Fleur was saying, she was far too anxious. At every small creak she heard, Hermione looked up expectantly at the winding staircase.

When Harry finally returned to the ground floor, without Ron, the tiny spark of hope that Hermione had been holding close died. Harry padded over to her with a small apologetic smile on his face. She raised her eyebrows questioningly at him.

“Nothing. He just wouldn t talk to me, he barely looked up when I walked in. I don t know what else we can do Hermione. Maybe you could go and see him? You know he listens to you.” She knew he was right, Ron had always listened to her. Though he’d never admit it, he looked to her when in doubt. She didn t want to go, she didn’t really know why, just that she was scared to see Ron in his current state.

“I’ll go and see him later.” This was a lie, Hermione was lying to Harry, and herself. She knew deep down that if Harry didn’t push her to help Ron now, she’d never do it.

“Why not now? ’ m sure Fleur wouldn’t mind you leaving and resuming your conversation later.” She looked up to see a smirk on Harry’s face, Fleur luckily hadn’t noticed the sarcastic tone in his voice.

“No, I couldn t leave half way through a conversation. Really Harry, I’d expect you to have better manners.” To be perfectly honest, Hermione had completely forgotten Fleur’s presence next to her in the living room. Her mind was consumed with thoughts of Ron.

“No no. It is fine, we will speak later, yes?” Fleur smiled reassuringly at Hermione, insisting that she leave.

“Well if you’re sure.” She rose from her seat and started towards the stairs, turning abruptly before she began to climb. “You know, I think I ll have a cup of tea first.” She announced to no one in particular. Harry followed her to the kitchen where she placed the rusted kettle on to the stove.

“What’s up Hermione? Why don t you want to see Ron?” Harry’s thick brows were knitted together in confusion. He could tell she was stalling herself.

“What do you mean, Harry? I’m just thirsty. I think Ron will survive another five minutes without me, don’t you? He’s done okay so far.” She retorted, cringing at her own words, because Ron hadn t survived, not really. He had broken down. Shut himself off, and everyone else out.

She was fooling no one. Harry saw right through her facade.

“What are you afraid of?” He asked simply. His words stirred something inside of Hermione. He was right, she was terrified. Frightened to death that even she wouldn t be able to help Ron, mend him back to the man he was. The strong, tough skinned Ron she knew. She was scared that Ron was forever broken. “He needs you, Hermione. Don’t leave him, not now.” Harry patted her shoulder as he passed her to sit with Ginny in the living room.

When Hermione reached the very top of the house she practically ran to Ron’s room and knocked on his door before she could back down, and gently pushed open the door.

“Ron?” She asked quietly. When Hermione stepped further into the room she was overwhelmed with a general sense of Ron. His familiar smell: freshly mowed grass, new parchment, and Ron s aftershave all rolled into one. His ridiculously messy room, and the walls he had plastered with the faces of the Chudley Canons. Ron was sat on his small bed, feet dangling off of the edge. Hermione sat next to him, making herself comfortable, feeling she would be here a rather long time. Ron hadn t looked at her at all since she had entered the room, and she was glad. If he had he would have noticed the unmistakable look of panic and fright in her eyes. Hermione didn’t want Ron to see her this lost and helpless.

Hermione watched as another minute passed by on Ron’s orange clock. They had been sitting in silence for an hour now.

“Why haven’t you said anything?” Ron’s voice was uneven and cracked where he had not spoken in so long. Hermione wasn’t sure if it even was Ron or if she had imagined it. She turned slowly in his direction to find him looking expectantly at her.

“I -I” She fumbled for words. “Would you have replied?” Ron looked away from her, resuming his staring at the floor. “So that’s it? That’s all you re going to say to me? You’re going to give me that and nothing else? No indication as to whether you’re okay or not?” He had angered her now, did he really think he could come out of his shell for two minutes and then disappear again, leaving her alone?

“Ron, look at me.” Nothing. “Ron, please.” He continued to phase her out. “Ronald Weasley, look at me right now!” At this Ron turned to face her, his eyes glistening. “Oh, Ron.” She gathered him in her arms in an embrace. They stayed like that for a while, Ron sobbing gently into her shoulder, and Hermione gently soothing him. When he seemingly ran out of tears they broke apart.

Hermione looked at Ron earnestly, waiting for him to explain his absence.

“Why not me Hermione?” A look of self loathing and despair entered Ron’s eyes and Hermione had to do her absolute best to hold back her own tears. This was not the time, she needed to be strong for Ron. “I was right there, right there next to him, and I did nothing. I just left him.” His last words were distorted with sobs.

Hermione didn’t know what to say. Soft comforting words entered her mind but she knew they were meaningless, Ron didn t need them, they were empty. She took his hand in hers hoping he would simply find some comfort in her presence. He gripped Hermione’s hand tighter, as if it were a life line.

“No one blames you Ron, there was nothing you could do. It wasn’t your fault, you have to believe me.” Ron raised his head and gave her a tight smile and nodded slightly, she knew this meant he was ready, he could do it now. Hermione raised herself off of Ron s bed, his hand still firmly holding on, clutching to her as if he may fall if she let go. Together they walked out of the attic room to face the others. Together. The word ricocheted in her head, bouncing gleefully around. She smiled once again at Ron, but when he returned it only half heatedly she knew he still wasn t ready, but she would wait. She had for seven years already.


	2. Impressions

Hermione awoke to a loud bang. She sat upright on the springy mattress so fast her head spun. The source of the noise was Ginny. She was clambering around beneath her small bed.

“Ginny? What on Earth are you doing?” Hermione asked groggily. Never before had Ginny Weasley been awake earlier in the morning than herself.

“Ow” Ginny muttered to herself whilst rubbing head, making her flaming red her stand on end even more so. “Oh, morning Hermione. Sorry if I woke you. I was just looking for my shoes… when I banged my head” Hermione gave her a sympathetic look.

“What shoes? I’ll help you look.” Hermione was constantly offering to do things for Ginny now, as she had kindly let Hermione sleep in her bedroom whilst she was staying at the Burrow. The room was small and cramped. The two single beds were pushed against the lilac walls. Ginny’s clothes were strewed about over everything in sight, but Hermione liked it. Just knowing that she was safe, and with her friends, with Ron, was all that she needed. 

“You know the suede brown heels? Little pink and yellow flowers on ‘em? Fleur’s hand-me-downs.” Ginny wore a look of distaste as she described the shoes.

“Heels? Why do y-oh.” Saturday. Today was Saturday. Today all of the Weasley’s would gather at the Burrow to mourn Fred, and pay their respects.

Hermione leaped off of the bed and swiftly left the room, forgetting all about her offer to assist Ginny in her shoe hunt. 

…

The knock at the door startled Hermione, making her drop the metal container she had been clutching to her chest.

“George! Hurry up! You’ve been in there bloody ages!” The speaker was unmistakably Ron. Hermione’s heart began to beat faster just at the thought of him. “For God’s sake George, get your arse out of there! You can’t smell that bad!”

Hermione unlocked the door and opened it slightly. At the sight of her Ron’s ears began to redden. She followed his gaze down to her over sized striped pajamas and blushed. She looked a mess. After she had jumped out of bed and hastily left Ginny’s room she had barricaded herself in the bathroom. The only bathroom. So far Fleur, Mr. Weasley, Harry, George, and now Ron had waited to use the lavatory, but given up and resorted to other options.

“Oh, Hermione. Sorry, I-I thought you were Fred, but you’re not. Obviously” Ron forced a nervous laugh. 

“No, no. I’m sorry, I’ve been in there for ages.”

“Really?” He took in her bedraggled appearance once more. His face wore a look of confusion. “I mean, that’s fine, really. Can I just grab a few things?” Hermione opened the door wider and stood aside to let him into the bathroom. She sat on the cold bath edge and watched him as he scoured the shelves for his toiletries. Every now and again he would reach up to grab something, his shirt rising with him, revealing his toned abdomen. Hermione couldn’t help but admire him.

“You haven’t seen a grey bottle with blue writing on have you ‘Mione?” Ron asked, whilst scanning the room. Hermione picked up the metal can she had been holding and passed it to Ron. She didn’t even look for it as before Ron began to hammer the bathroom door she had been ashamedly smelling the contents of the bottle. She knew that it was Ron’s aftershave as all of the Weasley’s possessions were all clearly labelled with their names. She realized that it was a silly thing to do, but she couldn’t resist. Hermione had been yearning for Ron since he had awoken from his dazed state. She often found herself watching him from afar, longing for his company, but now was not the time to put herself and her emotions first. Maybe in the future, she hoped. Ron thanked her and left the bathroom. She listened to his footsteps fade.

“Come on now, get yourself together Hermione. It’s going to be a big, big day.” She exhaled deeply and turned on the rusting taps. It was silly but Hermione wanted to look nice today, well at least better than she normally did, when meeting Ron’s family. Her plans were to have a hot shower and wash her hair - hopefully her wild bushy mane would behave itself just for now.

She stripped out of her baggy pajamas and stepped delicately into the tub. She winced slightly at the cool temperature of the water raining down on her - at the Weasley household hot water was scarce with there being so many occupants. 

…

“Ron?” Ron jumped up off of the stairs, he began to feel slightly lightheaded. “What are you doing?” Harry raised his eye brows questioningly at him. Ron was going to come back with a witty remark but he had to admit that he was in rather strange position; that being crouched outside the bathroom door with his ear pressed lightly to the cool wood.

“Who’s in there? It isn’t still Hermione is it? She was in there early this morning!”

“Um, yeah, I think so.” Ron tried to look uninterested at the mention of Hermione’s name, tried.

Realizing that he hadn’t actually answered his earlier question Harry prompted “So, are you waiting for the bathroom? Or…”

“Er, yeah, yeah. I’m waiting. I think she’s in the shower.”

“Oh, right. Probably best to come back in a while then.” Harry suggested. Ron nodded in agreement and began to walk slowly backwards down the hallway. When Harry had retreated down the stairs to the ground floor he tip toed back to his place by the door. He knew it was weird, and creepy but he couldn’t leave. He had been sat listening to Hermione singing in the shower for about five minutes now. Hermione had many talents - too many for Ron to list - but singing was not one of them. The song, unknown to Ron - most likely a Muggle one he thought - was completely out of tune, and Hermione’s voice broke when she tried to sing in high pitch. Though that hadn’t driven him away. Ron missed Hermione. He just wanted to be near her. To admire her thirst for knowledge. To gaze upon her wild hair, and pretty delicate features. And most of all to push her buttons and wind her up, Ron loved to argue with Hermione. Ron found that it was in the heat of the moment that Hermione was most beautiful. The way colour rushed to her cheeks when she was angry, and her small fists clenched at her sides made Ron giddy. It was when Hermione was most alive. Ron hadn’t had any moments like that with Hermione since she had comforted him in his attic room. He thought things would get better again after that, but Hermione seemed to be ignoring him. She purposely turned away when he looked her way and made excuses to leave a room he had entered. It was killing him. 

Ron was so caught up in his thoughts of Hermione that he hadn’t noticed the beauty herself exit the bathroom in nothing but a small towel. She was standing directly in front of him, her eye brows knitted in confusion. 

“Ron, what are you doing down there?” She asked. 

“I e-er dropped something.” Ron spluttered. Hermione’s gaze swept the floor.

“B-but I, um, found it.” 

“So why are you still on the floor?” She questioned. “You’ll be filthy!” 

“Alright, mum.” Hermione laughed lightly, extending a hand to help Ron up. Crisis averted Ron finally took Hermione’s appearance in, his blue eyes widening. Her small slim figure was covered with only a small white towel which spanned between her lower shoulders and mid thigh. Her hair had curled slightly, waves cascading around her shoulders. Hermione had obviously noticed Ron’s stares as she pulled the white cloth closer to her body. 

“I better go and get dressed.” She said with a tight embarrassed smile as she sidled past Ron.

Hermione began to pad barefoot towards her room but didn’t get very far.

“Hermione?” Ron said hesitantly. He inhaled deeply as if preparing himself. Hermione turned. “I was wondering, well I mean I hoped, it-it would be really nice if-if.” Ron knew he was babbling and shook himself. “Hermione, will you stay with me today. Please. It’s gonna be hard and-and everyone’s going to be there and. Well I just don’t want to loose myself, again. You always keep me grounded so I thought maybe-“ 

“Yes. Absolutely, of course Ron. You needn’t ask. Wait here, I’ll be ten minutes, and we’ll get you ready.” She cast a glance upwards at his unruly red hair and smiled broadly “And we’ll find you a brush.” She walked swiftly back to her room, leaving Ron standing alone in the narrow hall, grinning freely.


	3. Final Goodbyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! This is my favourite chapter by far! I've written 5 already, just to let you know, and many people have said that is my best piece yet, they also told me that had to break out the tissues, it's a bit on the sad side unfortunately. Thanks for taking a look, reviews and advice are welcome! Happy reading!

Complete and utter chaos, was the only way Hermione could describe the day. She had never seen such madness. Even or the Weasley’s - who were notorious for their lack of organisation - this was bad. She couldn’t help smiling to herself though: Fred. This is how he would have wanted it to be. Her thoughts were confirmed by the sight of George standing in the corner of the Burrow’s living room smirking to himself. 

Hermione had prepared herself for a day of tears, and sadness, but apparently she needn’t have done so. All of the Weasley family were in unusually good spirits considering that it was Fred’s funeral. She suspected that it was simply because they were all scurrying around the house preparing things for later in the day when their other relatives would arrive. Her prediction was that when the ceremony actually began, and all had settled, the reality of the situation would hit them, hard. 

“Hermione? You haven’t seen Ron and Harry have you?” Ginny Weasley wore a pretty black dress and bold red lipstick which almost matched the fiery shade of her hair. 

“No, I haven’t seen Harry all day, and Ron disappeared this morning. Do you want me to go and find them?”

“Yeah, that’d be great thanks, Mum’s freaking out. She thinks Ron’s gone off on one again.” Ginny rolled her eyes and gave a slight laugh, Hermione forced herself to join in. Mrs. Weasley wasn’t the only one that was panicking about Ron. Hermione had been worrying about Ron since the morning, when he had asked her to stay with him throughout the day. She had gotten changed into a deep purple dress with a light polka dot pattern - Ginny had kindly lent it to her as she didn’t possess such clothing. When you've been on the run for a year pretty dresses aren’t the most practical items of clothing. Hermione had quickly pinned up her wavy hair and rummaged through Ginny’s draws for some makeup. She wasn't the type of girl to worry about her appearance, but today she wanted to look nice - she wanted to look good when when meeting Ron’s relatives. When she had taken one final look at herself in the bedroom mirror she left the room expecting to see Ron waiting for her, as he said he would, but he was no where to be found. She had had a quick look around the Burrow but couldn’t find the specific red head she was searching for. 

… 

“I miss this.” Said Ron through a mouth full of apple. “Y’know just us? Running away, going on our little adventures.”

“I wouldn’t call running from the darkest wizard of all time a little adventure, Ron.” Hermione said pointedly. 

“You know what I mean.” And she did. She really did miss being away from the rest of the world. Since the war Harry, Ron, and herself hadn’t had much time to themselves. Everyone wanted to know about their time on the run, they were constantly being badgered by the press. Then there was the political side of things: the Ministry of Magic had of course wanted to know everything that they knew. After all of that, and the time they had spent with their families, the trio hadn’t had much time for themselves. 

Hermione had found Harry and Ron hiding by the edge of the quidditch field. She had attempted to get the pair back to the house and ready for their visitors. She attempted to anyway. Now she found herself sitting on the dewy grass - most probably ruining Ginny’s dress - enjoying the mid day sunshine. 

“Now you two I expected, but Hermione, skiving off of work? Never.” All three heads turned towards the source of the voice. Ginny was stood grinning down at them shaking her head in disbelief. “If I knew you lot were dodging Mum and that lot sooner, I would have joined you!” 

“Gin, move your arse, your’e blocking the sun!” Ron complained. Ginny responded by kicking his leg and lowered herself onto the ground next to Harry. Soon Ginny was practically sitting in Harry’s lap. Their arms were draped over each other, Ginny’s head was resting on Harry’s shoulder, and occasionally he would plant a small kiss on her freckled cheeks. Hermione thought it to be sweet, but Ron thought differently. After several grunts, sighs, and coughs, Ron could take no more.

“I know you two are like, together, or a thing, or whatever now but could you please do that” He gestured wildly at the position in which Harry and Ginny were seated “elsewhere, somewhere I don’t have to see!” 

“No! Why shouldn't we be able to express our love for each other wherever and whenever we want? It’s a free country Ron!” Ginny protested. 

“Because it’s weird! Your'e my little sister! I shouldn’t have to sit around and watch you snog anyone, let alone my best bloody friend!”

“Oh stop being so hypocritical Ron! Harry’s had to sit around for years watching you and Hermione flit about! How is this any different?!” Ron’s ears immediately reddened. They were face to face now. The look on Ginny’s face was murderous. Harry and Hermione had also risen to their feet in case and actual brawl were to kick off. 

“That’s different! It’s not like me and Hermione actually did anything…” His embarrassment had highly amused Ginny as she had doubled over with laughter. When she had regained her composure she took Harry by the hand and led him back to the Burrow. Ron and Hermione were left alone. Whilst Hermione wracked her brain for something to say, Ron took to shoving his hands in his jean pockets and thoroughly examining his shoes.

“D-Do you have the time Ron?” Hermione asked, she was worried they would be late getting back to the Burrow, and she didn’t want to give Molly anything else to stress over.

“Yeah, it’s- bloody hell Hermione! It’s half one! The ceremony starts at two!” Ron looked himself up and down “I’m not even ready yet! Shit, Mum’s gonna go mental!”

“It’s fine Ron, calm down. Lets go back to the house, and we’ll get you ready. Okay?” He nodded and began walking swiftly back to the Burrow; Hermione almost had to jog to keep up with him. 

…

“How do I look?” Hermione turned at the sound of his voice. He fidgeted as she took in his appearance. He looked extremely handsome. The black suit fitted him perfectly, and for once he had bothered to tuck in his shirt ends and button his blazer. “Mione?” He woke her from her daze.

“Perfect Ron. Really, really…lovely.” Ron beamed at her, clearly comforted by her praise.

“Erm, there’s something missing though.” He took a purple polka dotted tie from his pocket almost guiltily. Hermione took the long material gently from his hands and tiptoed to lay the long strip of material over his strong broad shoulders. She felt him quiver slightly at her touch. She tucked the tie beneath his crisp white shirt collar and secured it into a knot.

“Ha, we match!” Hermione noticed suddenly, gesturing towards her dress and Ron’s tie. 

“Muuuum!” Ron moaned. “Sorry, that’s… embarrassing.” He laughed nervously.

“It’s probably just a coincidence. And if not, it’s sweet! I wonder if Harry and George have purple ones too.” She secretly hoped they didn’t. 

“I give you ten minutes before you get into some sort of mess.” She teased playfully; though her prediction was entirely accurate.

“I wouldn’t give him even that!” Ginny retorted in passing. “Ron! Mum wants you, she needs to check you look half decent. I told her you never look half decent so it shouldn’t be any different today!” 

“Shut up, Gin.” Ron childishly stuck his tongue, clearly not being able to conjure a witty comeback. “I best go.” He smiled lightly at Hermione and followed Ginny down the stairs.

…

As Hermione skipped down the stairs over a mountain of shoes, she almost collided with George. She apologised and tried to sidestep him but he purposely blocked her path.

“What’s up George?” She asked.

“Mum’s looking for you. She’s moaning about Ron’s hair or something.”

“Oh, alright. Hey, George; are y-“

“Don’t! Don’t even go there Hermione! I’ll get enough of that today from all of the old fogies downstairs” She smiled apologetically.

“Sorry, I didn’t even think.” George flattened himself against the stair wall to let her pass. “You scrub up good, by the way George.”

“You too, Granger.” He gave her a wink and continued to ascend the rickety steps.

When Hermione was on the ground floor of the Burrow she understood why George had retreated to his room. There were people everywhere. She had never seen quite so many witches and wizards congregated in one space before. The majority of them had unruly red hair and freckle spotted faces. Weasleys. Through all of the bodies in the room she could still identify Mrs.Weasley’s small plump figure. She attempted to carefully squeeze between the mass of people but there was just too many. In the end she has to resort to rather rudely push her way through the sea of bodies to get to Molly.

When she was just a couple of feet away the elder woman spotted her.

“Hermione! Thank goodness you’re here! Now my love, I need you to go and sort out Ron. He’s in a right state; I would do it myself, but as you can see, I've already got a handful.” She really had. She was carrying a tiny baby with a cluster of golden ringlets in one arm, handing out snacks, greeting more guests into the small space, and brewing tea every five minutes. The woman really was a miracle worker; then again, you’d have to be to raise Fred and George.

Hermione barged her way through the swarm of people, muttering ‘sorry’s’ as she went, to the garden where she found Ron hopelessly attacking his ginger mane of hair with a small comb.

“I think you’re going to need a bigger brush.” Ron cast a glance upwards at his hair.

“I’ve never been able to do it. Mum’s always had to.” He stated with a shrug.

“What about whilst you were at school? It seemed alright then.”

“Harry.” Ron answered simply.

“Ronald Weasley, have you no shame?” She laughed lightly. His hopelessness really was endearing. “Come here silly.” Ron’s hair really was horrendous. Hermione first had to untangle several large knots with her fingers. It was a difficult task and she could understand why Ron found it almost impossible himself. She had to admit she didn’t mind though. Hermione enjoyed doing little things for Ron; not that she’d ever let him know that, he’d never let it down. As she began brushing the final strands of unruly red hair away from Ron’s forehead she caught a glimpse of his piercing blue eyes watching her every move. She felt her cheeks warm.

“Did I tell you you look nice yet?” He asked, his eyes now sweeping the ground.

“Nice?” She knew he meant it as a compliment, but nice? 

“I-I mean lovely! Um, pretty?” Ron fumbled for words.

“Is that a question or a compliment Ron?” She was teasing him now.

“RON” Mrs. Weasley bellowed from inside the house. “RON! COME ON, IT’S ABOUT TO START!”

Hermione watched Ron as he prepared himself. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he released the breath. He began walking swiftly past Hermione towards the Burrow. He surprised her seconds later when he appeared at her side, leaned in close, and whispered in her ear “You look beautiful, Hermione.” Before she had any time to react he had dashed back to the house.

At two o’clock people began to take their seats inside the large levitating tent in which the ceremony would be held. Harry and Hermione stood amongst a long line of the Weasley’s distant relatives and a few of Fred’s Hogwarts friends. Mrs.Weasley, Mr.Weasley, and all of their remaining children stood side by side at the entrance of the marquee, shaking hands and welcoming their guests. When Hermione was at the front of the queue she hugged Molly and Ginny, and took the hands of the others. Ron was stood at the very end. When they shook hands he held on tightly and didn’t let go. She moved out of the procession to stand next to Ron, as not to hold up the line. He lent down to whisper in her ear. His warm breath tickled her, sending light pleasurable shivers down her spine. 

“You said you’d stay with me, remember?” She nodded, knowing that he needed her now more than ever. She no longer felt awkward and out of place in the line of Weasley’s; she was where she needed to be. 

When the last wizard in the line had given his condolences to the family of red heads Ron tugged Hermione by the hand inside. He guided her to their seats in the second row, next to Ginny and Harry, who were clutching to each other for support. A hush fell over the crowd as Charlie, Bill, George, and Percy walked slowly down the middle of the isle, carrying Fred’s coffin. The sight of the casket made Hermione gasp. Until she had seen the gleaming wooden box everything had seemed dream like, and surreal. It was silly but Hermione almost expected Fred to jump out at them at any second, and laugh at his ridiculously unfunny practical joke. Now it came crashing down on her. This was it. This was real. Fred was not going to wake up. Never again would they see his cheeky grin, hear his laughter. Never again would he and George be scolded for their mischief. George. Hermione watched as he carried his brother on his shoulder. His face was expressionless. The worst part is that we haven’t just lost Fred. A part of George has died along with him she thought.

Hermione suspected Ron might be thinking the same thing as the pressure on her hand increased. He was holding on so tightly her fingertips began to whiten from lack of circulation. But she didn't move, or ask him to let go. The pain was real in all of the sadness, it kept her grounded. 

The service was a blur to Hermione. She was lost in her thoughts. All she was really aware of was the increasing dampness of her dress. Ron’s head was bowed as he sobbed silently, his tears of remorse falling into her lap. Hermione hadn’t shed a single tear through the duration of the ceremony. She had cried so much over the past few weeks that she was drained of the droplets of sorrow. 

When almost everyone had left the tent she watched as George stood by his brothers side and said his final goodbyes alone. His body was wracked with grief. His skin a greyish pallor. Eyes sunken and empty. As Hermione was ushered through the door tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, making her vision of the empty shell of a person that was George clouded.


	4. Embarrassing Encounters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had awful writers block with this chapter! I really didn't enjoy writing it. I'm still not happy with it but it's all I could muster, and my readers were getting impatient, so here you are, I hope you enjoy. Reviews would be wonderful as always. Happy reading!

Light seeped through the bottom of the door, partially illuminating the room. Hermione opened her eyes, suddenly alert. The bathroom door handle turned then came abruptly to a halt.

“Who is it?” She asked hesitantly. Her voice croaked slightly from her lack of using it, due to it being the middle of the night.

“Hermione?” She sighed a breath of relief. Thank Merlin it was Ron. Hermione had been sleeping, well trying to, sleep in the Weasley’s bathtub for a few hours now. She had been wandering around the Burrow searching for somewhere to rest, but having no luck. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had retreated to bed soon after settling their guests. Some of their distant relatives had opted for staying the night as they were a little too tipsy to apparate home. This caused a slight problem for herself, and the other Weasley’s as many of the rooms they usually occupied were in use. Ginny and Hermione’s room was taken by Bill and Fleur, and so Ginny took the only free sofa - George, Percy, and Harry settling into the two remaining couches and one large arm chair. She had considered sleeping under the stars but a light rain had began to fall, so there she was. Laying stiff and cramped in a cold steel bathtub. “Hermione? What’s going on?”

She walked across the cool tiled floor to unlock the door. Ron looked half asleep. His hair ruffled and goosebumps on his arms from the slight chill in the air. He glanced behind her to see the makeshift bed of thin sheets and mismatched cushions. “You’re not sleeping in the bath are you?” He wore a look of concern.

“No Ron. I just thought it might be cold so I gave it my duvet. What do you think?” She snapped. He looked hurt and she regretted her tone immediately. “Sorry, I just haven’t gotten any sleep.”

“Why aren’t you in your room? Is Harry shacking up with Gin again? I wondered where he was.” Ron uttered the words with such disgust, Hermione tried immensely hard to hide her amusement. 

“Bill and Fleur are in our room, so Ginny, George, and Harry are on the settees. Hold on, where are you sleeping?” She realised she hadn’t come across Ron on her travels.

“In my room of course. I ain’t letting that lot sleep in my bed.” He scrunched up his freckled nose.

“Ron, they’re your family! Besides, I doubt they’d want to sleep in your room! It’s a rubbish tip! And why is Harry curled up in the arm chair if your room is free? I could have slept there!” She rolled her eyes in annoyance. 

“Dunno, he must’ve fallen asleep.” Ron shrugged. “You can take my bed if you like, I’ll take Harry’s sleeping bag on the floor.” He had lowered his voice considerably and Hermione had to strain her ears to hear what he was saying.

“Oh, thank you Ron, but I couldn’t, really. And besides, the baths…It’s-well, it’ll do. It’s only for tonight.”

“Don’t be stupid Hermione. Go on up, I’ll bring up your blankets when I’m done in here.” She didn’t have time to protest as Ron had shut the bathroom door. Reluctantly she began climbing the stairs to Ron’s attic room.

…

Even in the darkness Ron’s room was bright. The burnt orange walls seemed to glow with light. The faces of the Chudley Canons, literally, beamed down at Hermione. 

She had taken to perching lightly on the edge of the bed as she waited for Ron to arrive. Memories came flooding back into her mind. Countless summers were spent here, in this very room. With the pitiful amount of time they had had as children, this is where they spent it. Harry and Ron making silly jokes she herself didn’t find humorous in the slightest. Game after game of wizards chess - all won by Ron of course, fretting over school on her behalf, and above all, being a family. That’s what they were after all. The bond the trio shared could never be severed, the war had proven that. All they really needed was each other. Hermione shivered. Whether it was from the cold chill in the night air, or the anticipation of being alone with Ron, she didn’t know. Though she highly suspected the latter. 

The soft padding of feet echoing off of the old crumbling walls alerted Hermione of Ron’s approach. She watched as the decorative brass handle turned, and the old wooden door creaked open. Ron smiled at her tentatively as he stepped over the threshold. White linen draped over his arms. She rose from her place on the bed to take the soft white blankets and lay them on the small space of floor beside Ron’s bed. She finished by placing her plump pillow at the foot of Ron’s bed and gave herself a nod. The makeshift bed looked rather comfortable. 

“Thanks” Said Ron from behind her. She turned to see him leaning casually against the closed door, his arms crossed over his broad chest. She tilted her head slightly to the side, questioningly. “For making the bed…” Ron prompted. Still confused, she knitted her eyebrows together. “What?” Ron now wore a similar expression to herself.

“Why did you say thanks?” She asked.

“‘Cause you made up the bed for me, I could’ve done it myself. I’m not completely hopeless you know.” 

“Oh, Ron. I made the bed for myself, I’m not letting you sleep on the floor! You’ve already saved me from embarrassing encounters in the bathroom!” She protested.

“Nah, it’s fine, really. Me and Harry have been taking turns on the floor since we got the double bed.” The Weasley’s had invested in a large double sized bed for Ron as he had truly outgrown his small singular one. It was laden with thick cream sheets, light pumpkin orange tapestries, and an assortment of small cushions. Just from sitting on it she could tell that the cot was cozy. “I’m used to it.” He was slowly making his way towards Hermione, inching forward.

“Honestly Ron, I would feel bad. Just let me sleep on the floor, okay?” She smiled, and shook her head reassuringly. As comfortable, and inviting, as Ron’s bed looked she didn’t think she’d be getting much sleep anyway. Just knowing that he was lying in such a close proximity to her set every part of her on edge. She was aware of the soft shivers that coursed through her as she argued with him. Making her toes curl with excitement. 

“I’m really not gonna take no for an answer Hermione, so you may as well give up.” Ron shrugged. He watched her intently, waiting for her to take the bait. She did. She really didn’t give him enough credit sometimes. 

“Give up? Ronald Weasley, when have you ever known me to give up?!” The side of Hermione that had sorted her to Gryffindor, rather than Ravenclaw, sparked. Ron began to chuckle lightly to himself, as entertaining as pleasurable as the argument was, he really did need to sleep. It had been a long day. He had never cried, and laughed so much in twenty four hours, or drank quite so much fire whiskey. 

“You sleep in the bed, and to pay me back you can make me breakfast in the morning. How’s that sound?” Ron wore a large grin on his face. Hermione wasn’t smiling, or showing any indication that she had agreed, but he knew, he just knew, that he’d won her over. “So…What do ya think? Yes? No?” 

“I think, Ronald, that you’re quite possibly the cheekiest git ever, but yes. Fine. Thank you.” Hermione narrowed her eyes at him whilst hopping lightly up on to the bed. The sheets were cool and smelled of Ron. When she had snuggled down beneath the covers and had rested her head on the plump pillow she released a suppressed sigh. Ron laughed lightly at this.

“Tired?” He asked quietly.

“Exhausted” Hermione rolled onto her side. She was now near enough to the edge of the bed that she could just see Ron. He was laying on his back, his arms behind his head. He had his eyes closed. His strawberry blond eyelashes formed crescent moons on his freckle splatted cheeks.

“I guess it’s been a long day.” She watched as countless emotions played on his features. He reached out a long, strong arm to grab something from the counter at the foot of the bed. With a click the light from the lamp in the corner of the cramped room diminished. Ron placed the Deluminator back on the glassy top on the cabinet. He whispered to Hermione “Goodnight”.

“Night, Ron.” She replied through the darkness.

…

As the hours wore on the night became warm. Uncomfortably warm. Hermione squirmed beneath the sheets; feeling sticky, and irritable. She kicked the duvet off of herself. It rolled slowly down to the floor, settling over Ron’s still figure.

“Bloody hell, I’m hot enough without a thick quilt on me thanks!” He mumbled from beneath the blankets. He passed the duvet up to Hermione; where she pushed it to the end of the bed, tucking just her toes beneath it.

“Can’t sleep either then?” She asked.

“No, it’s stifling in here! And my back is killing me. The sheets aren’t thick enough.” Ron answered hoarsely, whilst rubbing his neck and lower back.

“We could switch if you like? I can’t sleep anyways.” She offered, knowing he would refuse.

“No Hermione, it’s fine.” He replied, giving her a reassuring smile, though wasn’t satisfied as the floor really was old and hard.

“Then- well, at least then top and tail with me?” What?! Hermione’s eyes widened at her assertiveness, as did Ron’s. What on Earth had possessed her to suggest such a thing? She had just asked Ron to share the bed with her. Ron’s familiar taunt of ‘Who are you, and what have you done with Hermione Granger?’ came to mind. She attempted to find a way to backtrack in her mind, coming up empty. She would just have to wait for the embarrassing moment when Ron said n-

“Um, okay.” He eased his large frame up from the dark wooden floor, climbing lightly, and with such ease, into the large bed (Hermione had practically had to jump to reach the high framed cot.) Unconsciously, Hermione had moved as far away as possible from Ron. Her flannel night shirt covered back, was pressed against the cool walls, on the far side of the bed.

Ron had used the discarded quilt as a pillow and was lying on his back, staring upwards at nothingness. After a few moments, Hermione had managed to compose herself. It was Ron, her best friend, why was she panicking. They were just laying at opposite ends of the bed; like kids. No harm in that, right? She smiled to herself, her previous reaction now seemed silly. She turned to her side where she was met by Ron’s feet. Ron was extremely tall, almost six foot two inches; resulting in him having rather large feet. Though Ron had a new, bigger, bed his toes still touched the headboard. His - once black socks - had several small holes at the heel and toe and they seemed to be emitting an odd smell. Hermione scrunched up her nose.

“Ron! Your feet smell absolutely vile!” She whispered loudly to Ron, who had fixed his gaze on her at the sound of her voice. She almost got lost in his light blue orbs before catching herself, coming back to the present. “I am not sleeping next to them! Do you ever wash?!” She highly dreaded the answer.

“Of course I do! I’m not filthy! I juts couldn’t find a pair of clean socks this morning so… I put on the first pair I grabbed.” His ears had reddened slightly.

“And where exactly did you find those?” She looked at the ragged material clinging to Ron’s feet with disgust, the smell really was awful.

“Under my bed…next to an old apple core.” He cast his eyes down, avoiding Hermione’s disapproving stares. She shuddered at the thought of what lurked beneath Ron’s bed, but said no more, the subject of his general messiness was clearly making him uneasy.

“Well, you’ll have to sleep up this end then.” She nodded towards the pillow adjacent to her own. Her cheeks heated at she watched him look from the pillow to herself, measuring their closeness. 

…

After saying goodnight, for the second time, Hermione and Ron turned away from each other; Hermione facing the peeling amber wallpaper, and Ron the opposite wall, from which the clock hung. He was undoubtedly counting down the minutes until he could get out of the immensely awkward situation they had gotten themselves in.

Hermione rolled over, so she was lying on her back. She crossed her arms over her flat stomach and watched white shapes dance on the insides of her eyelids. Moments later the mattress wobbled slightly as Ron also switched his sleeping position. His breathing was uneven, often changing pace; meaning that he was not asleep. Sweat began to seep from the palms of Hermione’s hands. She unwrapped her forearms from their crisscross, and rested them by her sides. The small, fine white blonde hairs on her arms prickled, standing on edge, as they became aware of something close. She edged her arm closer to the unknown object, curious. As her creamy skin made contact she realised that it was not something, but someone.

Ron’s arm was warm, the thin red hairs that layered his skin tickled slightly. Unable to resist, Hermione moved her forearm closer to Rons, to find that he was doing the same, she smiled to herself when their arms met in the middle. Somehow their hands found each other, their fingers intertwining. She felt eyes on her. She turned her head gently to the side, to be met by a pair of shocking blue eyes. Ron smiled at her, opening his mouth to say something, then deciding against it. Hermione arched her eyebrows questioningly, urging him to go on. He shook his head slightly; though she wanted desperately to know what he was going to say, how he was feeling in that moment, she opted not to, not wanting to ruin the moment. 

…

Hermione awoke to a light knocking. Opening her eyes drearily and squinting into the harsh sunlight that streamed through the window, she collected herself mentally. It was morning. Nine am. She was in Ron’s painfully bright room. She had slept here, in Ron’s room, in Ron’s bed, with Ron. Something solid beneath Hermione’s head heaved slightly. The something was warm, and solid, and moved steadily up and down, at a gentle and even pace. The something smelt strangely familiar. Like new parchment, freshly mown grass, and…toothpaste. The something, Hermione realised with a jolt, was Ron. 

Ron’s sleeping figure heaved again as he gave a loud snore, awakening himself, and startling Hermione. He sat quickly upright, looking frantically around the small room, his mop of ginger hair bounced atop his head as it shook vigorously from side to side. Hermione had been practically thrown off of his broad chest, and so settled herself at the bottom of the bed. She watched Ron as he slowly came to his senses. 

“Morning.” She said lightly, testing the waters. Ron was not a morning person. Over the summers she had spent at the Burrow, Ron would often stumble out of bed at two in the afternoon asking for breakfast. 

“Huh? Oh, mor-ornin.” He replied, yawning. ”Sleep well?” Ron asked. Had he noticed? Does he know how we slept? Hermione thought to herself.

“Um, yes. Yourself?” She avoided his gaze, embarrassed. On one level she hoped he hadn’t noticed how they had ended up sleeping - Hermione’s head resting on Ron’s chest - but on the other hand, she would be disappointed if he hadn’t, and even more so if he had been uncomfortable, as she most certainly had not.

“Yeah, really well.” At this Ron’s ears reddened, and he smiled shyly at Hermione. Yes, he most definitely remembered, Ron was a lot of things, but never shy. Hermione felt her cheeks warm.

“Ron? Are you awake?” The insistent knocking at the door had grown progressively louder. The brass handle had began to turn. Ron gave a startled look at Hermione, but before either of them had any time to panic, or react, Harry had walked into the small room. “Oh, you are u-” Harry frowned as he took in the scene. Though Hermione and Ron were sat at opposite ends of the bed, it was obvious they had slept together. There were no remnants of Hermione’s makeshift bed on the floor. Both of their hair’s were ruffled, and they both wore the same flushed tone. Hermione squirmed slightly on her place on the bed. Hermione had not felt so awkward since walking in on Harry and Ginny, and so she knew exactly how Harry was feeling. Harry frowned, opened his mouth to say something, then abruptly left the room. 

Ron cleared his throat.

“Well…” He bit his lip.

“Well… that was sufficiently awkward.” Hermione said lightly, attempting to lessen the obvious tension in the air. “I um, think I’m going to get some breakfast. Coming?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’ll go down after you though, or else it’ll look like…we um…” Ron’s ears reddened further.

“Oh! Yes, of course. Brilliant.” 

“Don’t sound too surprised! I do have a brain you know.” The pair laughed. This was it, Hermione thought to herself. This is what I’ve wanted, for so long. Just us. Me and him, together. Hermione’s mind began to wander, her head reeling with possibilities. The future seemed brighter now. Images of big houses, wedding vows, family dinners, job stresses, red haired children, jack russell’s, arguments, and above all, love, came rushing to mind. Hermione was snapped out of her reverie by the sound of Ron’s stomach growling. She jumped off of the high framed bed, wriggled her her toes, and stretched her arms high above her head. She tried to ignore Ron as he dived back under the beds covers when a strip of her toned abdomen was exposed; though she couldn’t help but smirk to herself, and feel a twinge of perverse satisfaction. 

She steeled herself as she began hopping lightly down the rickety Burrow stairs to breakfast; where she would undoubtedly have to face Harry, and apologize again, for her dreadfully unlucky timing.


	5. Spinning Bottles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is ridiculously long, around 7000 words, but I love it! It was tricky to write, but I enjoyed letting Ron and Hermione have a little fun! It's a little cheeky, so I hope you like it! Reviews and such would be amazing, it's great to know that people out there enjoy what I write, it gives me the confidence and inspiration to do more, so thanks so much if you do! As always, happy reading!

“Well, this has been delightful; but I’m knackered. See you all tomo-“

“George Fabian Weasley. Do not think you are leaving us to clear away this mess!” George froze in mid step. Rolling his eyes, he turned to face his mother. Molly Weasley’s small plump figure stood in the centre of the living room. Sweet wrappers, plastic cups, biscuit crumbs, and an assortment of other pieces of rubbish were strewed about around her, as if she were stood in the centre of an explosion.

 

“But I’m so tired.” George cast his eyes downwards. “I-It’s been a really long week for me, mum.” His voice had lowered considerably. Mrs. Weasley’s gaze faltered slightly, before she assumed her usual disapproving stares at George.

“You are not pulling that one on me! Don’t you dare try and use your brother as an excuse to skive off work!” She placed her hands on her wide hips, as if the act settled the matter. “Come along, chop chop.”

George sighed heavily.

“Nice try mate.” Ron muttered to him behind Molly Weasley’s back.

“Hermione dear, could you fetch us some black bags from the kitchen cupboard please?” Hermione smiled at Mrs. Weasley, and hastily left the seating area to do as she had been asked.

Having been living in the Burrow for a while now, she knew where practically everything was stored. She knew that Mrs. Weasley hid the good biscuits in the cupboard beneath the sink, which was locked at all times. She knew that because Bill and Charlie were adults, and both had jobs, they had to purchase their own food - which was kept on the top shelf in the pantry. She knew that Mr. Weasley kept a stash of Firewhiskey beneath his armchair, and that he thought no one knew about it, yet George often stole a glass, or two. So when Hermione walked into the Weasley’s cosy kitchen she knew instinctively to go to the third cupboard to the left, on the top row, to find the rubbish bags.

She searched the cupboard’s packed shelves for the item she needed. Finally spotting the plastic black bags on the top shelf, among several glass bottles filled with strange concoctions, she reached up to take them down; but the roll of black sacks were out of reach. Hermione tried again, standing on her tip toes and flexing her arm as high as possible. Giving up on her hopeless stretching she reached for her back pocket, where her wand was stored.

“Damn” She mumbled to herself, remembering she had left her wand in Ginny’s room. Rolling her eyes at herself for being so forgetful, she turned away from the kitchen cabinets to leave the room, but someone blocked her path. Almost running smack into the grey t shirt clad chest she gasped, backtracking her steps. Hermione felt the cool tiles of the kitchen counter pressing against her back. She raised her head slightly, meeting Ron’s piercing blue eyes. Without warning he advanced on her slightly. Hermione’s eyes widened drastically, giving her the appearance of a deer caught in the headlights. Ron reached up over Hermione’s head, extending his tall, lanky frame. She was trapped now, between the breakfast bar and Ron. The fresh scent of his aftershave drifted pleasantly towards her, she got lost in it. Inhaling deeply, wanting more. Hermione closed her eyes, the delicious sense of Ron entrancing her. Suddenly, strong hands were around her. One on her shoulder, another pressed lightly to her waist. 

“Hey, you alright there?” Ron had bent over slightly, bringing himself down to her height. His concerned stares were boring into her. “Hermione? You okay?” He looked torn between amusement and worry.

“Yes. I just, um…” She drifted off, loosing track of what was going on. All she could think about was the slight pressure on her waist. The warmth of Ron’s hand was seeping through her shirt, making her feel giddy. They were so close. She could count the number of freckles that mapped his cheeks. 

“You kinda fell into me” Ron chuckled lightly. Hesitantly, he removed his large hands from her small waist, ducking to the ground to pick up the discarded rubbish bags. “Here. I dropped them when I caught you” He handed her the plastic sacks.

“Oh, thanks. And thanks for, um, saving me I guess. I think I’m just a little tired.” Flustered more like! She thought to herself. Her cheeks reddened in embarrassment. I could have sworn he was going to kiss me…

“Thought you said you slept well” Ron raised an eyebrow questioningly. Hermione could have sworn he was teasing her, referring to their previous nights sleep. Before she could answer, he grinned at her mischievously and left the kitchen. Hermione stayed resting against the counter for a while, to compose herself. Her cheeks were flushed, with a mix of both embarrassment and excitement.

Rays of sunshine poured through the glass window, casting light shadows on the mismatched furniture. As clouds passed the light intensity grew stronger, illuminating the long wooden table in the centre of the room. From only a few feet away she could make out distinctive carvings on the surface of the oak. The Weasley children had all left their mark. Each red haired misfit had scratched their name into their place at the large table. Fred and George’s messy scrawl was the biggest of them all, taking up two seats at the dining table; although now only one of those places was occupied during meal times. Ginny’s name was carved elegantly, surrounded by small illustrations of flowers, and Quidditch related doodles. Bill and Charlie’s signatures were faded slightly, having been there the longest. Percy’s name was engraved at the edge of the table, in a minute scrawl, the letters were rigid and neat. Last but not least, Ron’s distinctive inscribe caught Hermione’s eye. It was the deepest cut of all, as if he had worked on it for weeks, making sure it stayed there forever, that he was never forgotten. An assortment of other scribbles covered the panel of wood. Some had been removed, making the surface uneven, but a few rude swear words had slipped Mrs. Wealsey’s notice. 

The loud ‘pops’ of people Apparating into the Burrow sounded from the living room. Hermione left the kitchen to see who had arrived. 

It was hard to tell exactly who had dropped by, as the throng of people were huddled together in the centre of the room, exchanging pleasantry’s. However, one figure within the mass of people she recognized instantly. Luna Lovegood’s long white-blonde hair seemed to glow, like a beacon of light. The petite girl wore a light green dress with large bright sunflowers snaking up the sides. Luna noticed Hermione leaning against the door frame, and gave her a friendly smile. The pair had never really been great friends, being the complete opposite of each other, but Hermione respected her greatly. There were times where she wished she could be just like Luna, completely fearless. Unafraid of what anyone thought of her; she seemed free. Luna walked, well, glided really, towards Hermione. Catching her by surprise she flung her arms around her. Hermione found herself in a mass of silvery hair, which had an overwhelming sweet smell of watermelons. She smiled to herself, only Luna. 

“Hi there Hermione!” Luna said in her light sing song voice. “It’s been a while.”

“Luna, I saw you yesterday.” Luna titled her head to the right. “At Fred’s wake?” Luna knitted her eyebrows together in confusion. “Never mind. Who else is here anyway?” Hermione asked, wanting to change the subject. As much as she admired her, Loony Lovegood was hard work sometimes.

“Well there’s me, Neville, Seamus, Dean, Ginny, George, Har-” Hemione cut her off before she finished listing every single person that was currently standing in the room. 

“I meant who had just arrived.” Hermione stated. Luckily, Mrs. Weasley’s shrill voice sounded over the loud sea of conversations in the small room.

“Thank you all very much for coming, this is a great help! You know know I was talking to Arthur the other day, about how lazy you lot can be sometimes! Proves me wrong, eh?” Molly chuckled to herself whilst the rest of the group wore looks of confusion upon their faces. Hermione caught Ginny’s eye and raised her eyebrows questioningly, Ginny answered with a light shrug. “Now dears, some of you can start by putting the big pieces of rubbish into the black bags, whilst the rest can start on this floor.” The group simultaneously bowed their heads to examine the rug laden wooden floor. Crumbs, juice stains, and countless other pieces of dirt were crushed between the fibers of the mat, and wrappers could be seen glistening beneath the floor boards. “There’s a spell book on quick cleaning fixes somewhere in the kitchen, hang on loves, I’ll just go and fetch it.” Mrs. Weasley hastily exited the room, leaving Seamus, Dean, and Neville glaring at the three Weasley’s. 

“We only came here for a cuppa tea! Now your mam’s got us cleaning!” Seamus whispered accusingly.

“Well I didn’t bloody know! Do you think I want to be tidying up?!” Ron replied.

“We don’t live here! Not our problem!” Seamus countered.

“Quit it you two! It was you and Dean that made most of the mess, well, and George when he got really drunk and started falling over everything, so it’s only fair you help clean it up! Anyway, with magic it’ll only take two minutes.” Ginny hissed loudly at Seamus.

“Ginny’s right.” Harry stated, stepping forward into the obscured circle that had been made. 

“Well you would say that, wouldn’t ya Harry. I mean, if you didn’t she wouldn’t be letting you stick your tongue down her throat every five minutes now would she?” Seamus laughed loudly, along with the rest of the group. Ginny stepped forward and punched him playfully on the shoulder; it was apparently harder than it looked though as Seamus began rubbing his arm gently.

Hermione felt Ron bristle by her side. His hands were clenched into a fist, and the look on his face was murderous. Hermione wasn’t sure whether he was mad at Seamus or Harry, but either way, she knew she had to do something to calm him down before he physically punched someone, or hexed them into oblivion. He still wasn’t comfortable with his best friend dating his sister, which was understandable. Hermione thought as quickly as she could, of ways to cool him down. She couldn’t make him leave the room, as it would be obvious as to why he was departing, and Ginny would kick off. Telling him to wouldn’t work either, as when Ron gets angry, he looses all rationality, and lets his emotions rule his reason. Without thinking it through, she grabbed his hand. Hermione’s hands were small, and dainty, and so she managed to squeeze her fingers beneath his tightly locked fist. As soon as she did so, Ron’s grip lessened slightly. He looked away from the scene in front of him, down to their interwoven hands. Hermione looked back and forth from their hands to Ron’s expression. After a short while, he looked into her eyes, unsmiling. ‘Breathe’ she mouthed silently to him. Ron closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply. When he released his breath he looked away form Hermione, back to the group, although his eyes seemed glazed, distant. She was about to ask him of what was the matter, when he squeezed her hand lightly; making Hermione grin sheepishly. 

…

What was supposed to only take two minutes ended up being two hours. The book of cleaning spells Mrs. Weasley had provided them with wasn’t much help. Hermione had been allocated the chief of spells position within the group. It had been Ron that volunteered her, deciding to take this as a compliment, and not his way of calling her a know-it-all, she accepted the role. The large book had a fraying brown cover, yellowing pages with curling corners. Most of the ancient scrawl could not be read due to major water damage, and pages being stuck together. The charms Hermione skimmed over were useless to them, being for major cleaning disasters. One, for example, was how to remove gnomes from drain pipes after severe weather conditions. After scanning through the entire book and coming up empty, the team decided to resort to ‘Muggle methods’ and using the basic, limited spells they knew.

Ginny and Ron had a spat every ten minutes, the majority of them regarding Ginny calling Ron a wimp for not dealing with the spiders that had invited themselves into the Burrow. Seamus and Dean probably made more mess in the process of ‘cleaning’ the clutter they had made the previous night at Fred’s wake; and Luna took to warning George about the Nargles that lurked behind the furniture. Hermione couldn’t help but notice that he seemed intrigued by Luna’s ramblings. This left Hermione, Harry, and Neville to do most of the work. They worked well together, settling into a nice rhythm. They made their way around the Burrow’s living room in a clockwork fashion. Hermione would do the best she could with the little spells she knew, whilst the boys would do the manual labour. By five pm the room was spotless. 

When Ginny, appointing herself as leader of the group, announced that the room was done, they simultaneously collapsed to the now-clean floor. Ron, Harry, Ginny, George, and Luna were leant against the mismatched sofas. George and Luna had resumed their animated conversation, and Ginny was leaning against Harry; Hermione glanced at Ron, longing to be able to be able to do just as her two best friends. A pang of jealousy surged from deep within her. Physically shaking herself, not wanting to feel such a petty emotion, she focused on other matters.

The group stayed that way for a long while, at around seven, when the sky turned a pretty shade of red, Hermione and Ginny left the seating area to make tea and coffee. 

“Argh” Ginny sighed in an aggravated tone whilst plonking herself into Mr. Weasley’s large wooden chair, at the head of the table. Hermione began preparing the ordered beverages, filling up the kettle, and lighting the stove. She then joined Ginny at the table, taking Percy’s seat.

“What’s up?” She asked.

“Ron’s doing my head in” Ginny replied, rolling her eyes.

“When doesn’t he?” Hermione asked. The pair laughed. Ron and Ginny bickered almost as often as she and Ron did; although Ron and herself were never really mad at each other, arguing was their strange, perverse way of flirting.

“He needs to man up, grow a pair!” Ginny seethed.

“You can’t moan at him for being afraid of spiders Ginny! It’s a genuine phobia.” Hermione defended Ron; she actually thought Ron’s fear of spiders was rather sweet.

“No, not that! I’m used to him being a prat like that, I actually find it quite amusing. You know, once I put a sp-” Ginny shook her head, the ends of her flaming red hair whipping around her slender shoulders “never mind, tell you about that later. What I mean is, he needs to stop being an idiot about you!”

“What?” Hermione asked, confused.

“He’s being a right coward. I don’t know why he hasn’t asked you out properly, you know, like made things official.” The kettle let off a high pitched whistle, signalling that the water within had boiled. Hermione left her seat at the table to tend to the tea. She could feel Ginny’s eyes on her. “Or has he? You’d tell me though, right?” She questioned.

“Yes, of course Ginny, you’re my best friend, I’d tell you anything.” She stated, hurt that she thought she didn’t trust her. Growing up Ginny was the only real girl friend she’d made, she found it hard relating to other girls her age, but they hit it off straight away. After time, they learnt that they balanced each other. Hermione could calm Ginny’s bad temper, much like Ron’s, and Ginny often persuaded her to be more courageous, daring her to be bolder. 

“So he hasn’t?” She clarified. 

“No. Ronald hasn’t, as you say, grown a pair.” She stated. 

“But you want him to right?” Ginny asked, blowing her steaming mug of tea; Hermione had only made Ginny and herself a cup, sensing they were going to be in the kitchen for a while.

“Well, I guess so.” She blushed. “I thought we kind of already were, I mean after what happened during the war, I just presumed…” She trailed off, embarrassed.

“Me too. But he definitely still likes you.” Ginny said, glancing towards the living room.

“How do you know?” Hermione asked.

“Well he can’t take his eyes off of you for starters!” She exclaimed. Hermione’s cheeks deepened, knowing Ginny was right; she had often noticed Ron’s stares, but reading nothing into them, well, not until now.

“Thought you were making us tea too?” Seamus said, making Hermione jump.

“Hold on! If you want it fast you can make it yourself!” Ginny said.

“Alright, alright, don’t kill the messenger. I only came here to let ya know that they all want coffee now instead, I didn’t mean to interrupt your mothers meeting!” At this Ginny picked up an old issue of Witch Weekly and threw it a Seamus, who ducked, grinning when it missed him.

“‘Spose we better get moving then.” Ginny sighed, stretching as she hoisted herself out of Mr. Weasley’s large wooden chair.

…

When she and Ginny returned to the Burrow’s living room, arms laden with a tray of steaming cups of coffee, they saw that no one had moved much since they had left. Ron and Dean were now playing Wizards Chess, a game that Hermione despised, and Luna and George were now discussing Fred and George’s joke shop. Hermione layed the tray in the centre of the circle, allowing the others to help their selves to the drinks. She settled herself down on the thick rug, between Ginny and Ron, whom noticing she had returned, let Harry take over his game. 

“I like your earring’s Luna.” Ginny said, gesturing towards Luna’s slightly elfish ears from across the rug. 

“Oh, thank you, they’re radishes.” She stated in her dreamy tone. “I have a ring to match, would you like to see?”

“Sure.” Ginny replied. Luna began fumbling through the large slits in her vibrant dress. She pulled out an assortment of random objects from her deep pockets; some of which Hermione didn’t recognize. Luminous handkerchiefs, fluffy quills, and what appeared to be enchanted socks, on which a small knitted mouse would scurry around. When she had found the item in question, Luna pulled it out of her pockets with a cheery ‘aha!’

“Catch Ginny.” She said, tossing the ring gently, underarm in Ginny’s direction.

There was a very good reason why Luna, much like Hermione, was not on any Quidditch teams. The entire group watched as the ring traveled completely off course, soaring through the air. It seemed to fly in slow motion. Hermione gawped as it spun in mid air, the tiny radish became a red blur. All eyes followed the ring down towards the ground, watch it’s elegant twirl, and suddenly come to attention as it began to escape, reeling towards the sofa. Ginny, Ron, and Harry all dived for the golden loop, sending their mugs of coffee to the rug. Three pairs of hands grabbed for the ring, all of which missed. It was gone. Under the dark cavern of the settee. 

“Damn” Ginny muttered to herself. “I’m not putting my hands under there.” She motioned towards the gap between the floor and the old fraying sofa.

“Ergh, me neither, I don’t think it’s ever been cleaned. Imagine the spiders…” Ron’s eyes widened, shivering at the thought. Meanwhile George and Hermione seemed to be thinking exactly the same thing. Both had frowns of confusion upon their faces, and were looking around at the group in astonishment. Noticing Hermione’s similar expression, George turned to Hermione.

“Hey, Hermione. Remember that thing we all used to do? You know that thing we used to have, it made us all special or something.” He said sarcastically. Catching his drift Hermione joined in on his little skit.

“I don’t know George. Could it have anything to do with this?” She replied, pulling her wand out of her boot, which she had fetched from Ginny’s bedroom earlier. 

George gasped in mock surprise. 

“Yes! Merlin that’s it! If only we knew how to use it!” They all laughed, that is except Ginny and Ron, whom was looking back and forth between George and Hermione.

“Ha ha. Very funny, just because we have magic doesn’t mean we have to whip our wands out for everything.” Ginny gasped and smacked her hand over her mouth. George, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at her in shock. “I - I.” She stuttered. They nodded in agreement, knowing exactly what Ginny had intended to say. 

Ginny Weasley, had turned into her mother.

George and Hermione took to giving her sympathetic smiles, whilst Ron was doubled over with laughter.

“Good - luck - mate!” He managed between breaths to Harry, whom was looking almost as worried as Ginny herself.

Wanting to help Ginny by drawing the attention away from her, Hermione suggested they summon the ring from beneath the couch.

“Accio ring!” Hermione said with a flick of her wand. They could hear the ring scuttling on the floor, there was a loud ‘clink’ before the ring shot out from beneath the settee, covered in dust, into the palm of Hermione’s hand. She picked off the large pieces of fluff with the tip of her fingers, and then blew away the smaller particles. She went to pass the ring to Ginny, but she was preoccupied. Handing it back to Luna she inquired why Ginny was on her knees, with her bottom in the air.

“She’s trying to find what the ring hit on it’s way out.” Harry informed her.

When Ginny pulled out her arm from beneath the sofa, the group saw the the object was simply an empty bottle of Firewhiskey. She discarded the glass bottle in the middle of the rug and they all resumed their seats. Dean and Harry had ended their game of chess, and now looked as bored as the rest of them. 

“Tsk, stop it Ron!” Hermione scolded; he had taken to spinning the bottle on its side, which was irritating her.

“Hey!” Seamus exclaimed. “Why don’t we have a game of spin the bottle?!

Dean and Seaumus were grinning wickedly at each other, whilst Harry and Hermione had slight disapproving looks upon their faces. The rest of them however, had no idea what spin the bottle was.

“Um, can someone explain what spin a bottle is.” Ron said.

“It’s a Muggle game.” Harry stated. “They tend to play it when they’re drunk, hence the empty bottle.” He looked to Hermione handing over to her. She rolled her eyes at him. Why must she act as the teacher within the group.

“One person spins the bottle, within a circle, and whoever the neck of the bottle points to, has to kiss the spinner.” Hermione remembered watching a sitcom during a summer holiday, where a group of friends played the game. She thought it was silly.

“Cool!” Exclaimed Ron. “Shall we?” Hermione looked at him disapprovingly and he lowered his head slightly, as though he had been reprimanded.

“Well we can’t really can we. There are three of us.” By ‘us’ Hermione presumed Ginny meant Weasley’s. “And I’m not kissing you or George!” She confirmed Hermione’s guesses.

“And I don’t particularly want to kiss Harry either.” Seeing the wounded look on Harry’s face Hermione continued. “You’re as much my brother as Ron is Ginny’s.” Harry smiled, understanding he nodded in agreement.

“We could always do dares instead.” Neville suggested. Ron looked eagerly to Hermione. She nodded her head, approving of the idea, and he grinned. 

Ginny, again appointing herself leader, organised the group into an orderly circle, and placed the green glass bottle in the middle of the bodies. 

“Okay, so truth or dare right?” Everyone murmured an agreement. Ginny span first, the thinner end of the bottle pointed to Luna. She looked around the circle with glassy eyes. 

“Truth or dare, Loons?” George asked. ‘Loons’? Where had that come from? Hermione thought to herself.

“Truth, please.” She answered. Ginny thought for a moment. A long moment.

“Ummm.” Ginny took to staring at the ceiling as if a question were written up there among the cobwebs they had missed. George cleared his throat.

“May I?” He asked, Ginny shook her head avidly, clearly thankful she didn’t have to think of the question. Hermione herself could see why Ginny had struggled. She couldn’t think of a truth question to ask Luna; she wasn’t the type to keep secrets, if he had something on her mind, she would say it.

“So Loons, how’s your love life?” George asked Luna, twisting slightly in his place on the rug to face her. Hermione was surprised to see that he appeared genuinely interested in the matter.

“Well I suppose I haven’t really got one.” She giggled. “I’m not seeing anyone if that’s what you mean.”

“But do you like anyone?” George asked again. Hermione met Ginny’s eyes; they were thinking the same thing. Why does George care?

“Yes, I met someone recently, he’s rather charming actually.” Luna replied in her dreamy voice.

“Who?” George demanded. Luna looked suddenly flustered, her cheeks began to colour and her mouth kept opening and closing, giving her the apperance of a goldfish.

Hermione had never seen Luna like this.

“I think you’re only supposed to ask one question, George.” She said quietly, but George heard her. Taking the hint, he stopped asking Luna questions.

Harry span next, the bottle landed on George, who chose dare. Harry dared him to sing ‘Do The Hippogriff’, which George exclaimed was easy. 

…

George’s a bloody awful singer; worse than Hermione, Ron thought. He sang the entire song, which was more than enough to drive someone insane. After his final chorus of ‘can you dance like a Hippogriff’, the whole group applauded George, whom got to his feet, and bowed melodramatically. Ron rolled his eyes but clapped anyway. Luna Lovegood was red in the face, due to laughing so much at George’s performance. Ron frowned, thinking she was going a bit over the top. George, however, seemed to enjoy the attention, beaming at her.

The bottle was spun again and again, Ron, luckily, had not been landed on, although Ginny accepted Dean’s dare to smell Ron’s shoe, and had had to run to the bathroom. Ron roared with laughter, along with Dean and Seamus, catching Hermione rolling her eyes at him he attempted to stifle his laugh.

Everybody was in high spirits. George had stolen the half empty bottle of Fire whiskey from beneath Mr. Weasley’s plush armchair. Hermione had declined a sip, not being keen on the strong beverage. Noticing she wasn’t drinking, Ron also refused a drink. He retreated to the kitchen quietly, unnoticed by the others whom were engrossed in their game of truth or dare. Padding through the kitchen diner, bare footed, he used his wand to light the stove and magically fill the kettle. Whilst the water was boiling he fetched Hermione’s favourite mug from the cupboard. The kettle let off it’s high pitched scream, steam bellowing from the spout. He poured the piping water into the large ivory mug, making sure not to add any sugar to the tea. (Hermione never took sugar, she said it rotted teeth.) Ron walked carefully back to the living room, not taking his eyes off of the brown, wobbling liquid within the cup. No one had acknowledged he had left, no one but Hermione. As he reached the centre of the room he noticed her watching him intently. He handed her the china mug, making sure to give her the handle side, even if his hand burned a little. She looked a little surprised, smiling at him, she said thank you.

… 

“Who’s next then?” Ron asked, having missed a couple of spins. 

“It’s Ginny’s turn to spin now.” Neville informed him.

Ginny span the bottle. It completed three whole rotations, and came to a slow stop, pointing to the person two spaces to the right of Ginny. Hermione. She took her eyes off of the stationary green bottle to face the group. 

“So Hermione…” Said Ginny, settling onto her knees. She was smiling deviously, looking from Ron to Hermione. “Do you still like-” She began, being cut off by Hermione.

“I haven’t chosen truth or dare yet!” She stated, stopping Ginny short.

“Yeah, but it’s obvious you’d choose truth… It’s you.” Said Dean, opposite Hermione in the small circle. She frowned. She was going to select truth if the bottle had landed on her, but that was besides the point. Hermione knew she had a goody-two-shoes reputation, but did her closest friends still perceive her to be sweet little Hermione, after everything she had gone through in previous years. Temper rising, she decided to defy them.

“Dare.” She said simply. Glaring at Ginny; she knew the question she had been about to ask, so she would have had to change to dare either way.

A few of them raised their eyebrows in surprise, but Ginny simply smiled even more mischievously than she had before. Had she planned this? Oh Merlin, what’s she going to give me? Hermione fretted.

“Alright then.” Ginny pretended to think, though it was blindingly obvious that she had already made up her mind. “How about you kiss Seamus.” It wasn’t a question. That was it, the dare.

“I thought we weren’t playing the normal version of spin the bottle?” Harry asked, seeing how uncomfortable Hermione looked. 

“Yes, because too many of us are related, and it would be weird, but Hermione and Seamus aren’t related, are they?”

“Yeah, but-” Harry protested, clearly not approving of Ginny’s sudden, apparent cruelty.

“And it’s not like they’re close friends or anything. I’m sure Seamus won’t mind?” Ginny turned away from stricken looking Hermione to an eager Seamus.

“No mam.” He said, grinning. Ginny looked to Hermione, whom was staring at Ron, whom was focusing on Harry’s shoe. Luna, George, Neville, and Dean, looked as though they were watching a tennis match. Their heads were darting back and forth between Ginny, Hermione, Ron, and Seamus. Harry, meanwhile, seemed to be attempting to catch Ron’s eye.

Ginny coughed lightly, prompting Hermione.

Hermione moved her mug of tea aside, and began to kneel unwillingly towards Seamus. Pushing the bottle aside, she crawled a couple of steps, into the centre of the circle. She felt as though she was on a stage. Seamus had met her in the middle; he had stopped grinning, noticing how little Hermione wanted to do this.

A tight knot in Hermione’s stomach had formed. The closer she got to Seamus, the more it clenched. She had only ever kissed Ron properly before. Viktor Krum had tried going further than a light peck on the cheek, but Hermione had never felt right about it. She knew now, that it was because she only had eyes for Ron; and still did. Just close your eyes, and do it. She thought. The quicker you do it, the sooner it’ll be over.

Leaning forward, she caught a whiff of Firewhiskey from Seamus’s breath. When the pair locked lips, she screwed her eyes shut, not wanting to acknowledge whom she was kissing. It wasn’t bad, but it was different. Seamus’s aftershave was slightly overwhelming, the strong scent of oranges hit her with force. His lips were large, and chapped, and she found the kiss awkward. After only a couple of excruciating moments, a loud clash sounded behind her. She broke apart from Seamus, who kindly looked away from her flushed face. 

Attempting to discretely wipe her mouth with the back of her hand, she saw Harry rush past her, through the open Burrow door, out into the blackness.

“What happened?” She asked Ginny, who was looking towards the door, she looked torn between satisfaction and worry. “Ginny?” 

“Ron took off, he knocked over the table. Harry’s gone after him.” Dean answered for Ginny, whom was now staring at the ground

“Happy now?” Hermione asked her angrily. This was all Ginny’s fault. She knew what she was doing. Why? Why on Earth would she dare her to kiss anyone in front of Ron, knowing full well how they both felt. 

“Hermione, I didn’t think he’d-“

“Save it.” Hermione said seethingly as she passed to upturned coffee table, following Harry and Ron into the night.

…

The air was cold. Goosebumps erupted on Hermione’s arms the moment she stepped out of the Burrow’s door; though she didn’t mind. The chill would help to calm her. The urge to scream, let out her anger at Ginny was fading slightly as she walked through the high grass in search of Ron. 

“Hermione! Wait!” She could hear Ginny running behind her, trying to keep up with her long strides. “Let me explain. Please.” She pleaded.

Hermione ignored her.

“I thought he would do something, step forward, prevent you from kissing him. I thought he’d get so jealous he couldn’t stand it, and finally do something! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for him, and you, to get so upset! Hermione?” Ginny finished breathlessly. After a few minutes, Hermione finally spoke.

“I think they’re by the Quidditch field.” 

“What? Y-you’re not going to shout at me?” She asked, surprised.

“No. I’m mad at you; you didn’t think it through, but I know you were trying to help.” Hermione replied calmly.

“So you forgive me?” Ginny asked hopefully.

“Yes, I forgive you.” She said with a laugh. “Now help me find Ron, he’s probably hexed Harry out of anger by now.”

They walked to the edge of the large expanse of cut grass that was the Weasley’s Quidditch pitch, to find Harry standing alone, his wand tip alight.

“Where’s Ron?” Hermione asked when she and Ginny reached him in the middle of the pitch.

“He Apparated back to the house when he saw you coming.” Harry said.

“Is he angry at me?” Hermione asked tentatively.

“No, I think he’s pissed off with you if anything.” He replied, looking at Ginny. “You knew how he would react! What did you go and do that for?” Harry said accusingly. 

“I thought it’d make him jealous!” Ginny said exasperatedly. “Merlin I wish I’d never done it now! Everyone’s having a go at me! Even George called me a prat.” Ginny’s eyes began to water; Harry was instantly by her side.

“That’s because you are.” He mumbled into her flaming hair. She laughed into Harry’s chest. Hermione suggested that they return to the Burrow, and get some sleep, it had to be into the early hours of the morning by now. 

When they got back the cups of tea and coffee had been cleared away and only George, Neville, and Luna remained. 

“Thanks for clearing up guys.” Harry said the Luna and Neville appreciatively. 

“That’s alright. Dean and Seamus told us to say goodnight, they’ve gone home, Seamus felt a bit awkward, you know…” Neville trailed off, purposefully not looking in Hermione’s direction. “We better be off too.”

“You two are staying together?” George interjected suddenly.

“No no, I’m just going to make sure Luna gets back safely.” At this George frowned.

“Well, she lives closer to us than you Neville, mate. I’ll drop her by, it’s no problem.” 

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble for me, I like being out of the house, away from my Gran.” Neville said jokingly.

“Well, she’s surely in bed now, so you won’t have to see her. Really, I’ll take Luna.” George replied, apparently not getting the joke. Hermione met Ginny’s puffy eyes, George not getting a joke? Maybe he’s gone mad, Hermione thought.

Neville and George finally agreed that Neville would travel straight home alone, whilst George would Apparate with Luna back to her house.

“Come along then Loons.” George said cheerfully, holding out his arm for Luna to take. She smiled at him sleepily, holding on to his hand, and with a slight turn, they were gone. Harry, Hermione, and Ginny ascended the stairs together, all feeling rather drowsy after a long night. When they reached the first floor landing, Hermione entered the small, cramped room without Ginny, as she was saying goodnight to Harry just outside. She changed into her comfortable cotton pajamas, brushed her hair, turned out the lights, and climbed into bed. Fifteen minutes later, when Ginny finally arrived, Hermione closed her eyes, steadied her breathing, feigning sleep; giving Ginny privacy. 

…

Hours later, Hermione found that she could not sleep. Her single bed felt unable to contain her as she repeatedly changed position, hoping to drift off into darkness. She found herself staring up towards the ceiling, up towards Ron’s bedroom, four floors up. Hermione knew why she couldn’t sleep. She knew that her mind craved a certain fresh pine scent, a familiar feeling of comfort, and protection, and safety. She knew that her body longed to hold a certain pair of large, warm hands, itched to touch and explore a certain body, and yearned to caress a certain pair of lips. She needed Ron. She was used to this emotion, familiar with the dull ache that would form at the pit of her stomach; but it was stronger now. The longing to be with him had intensified after last night. She needed to do something, take her mind off of it all, before she climbed the stairs and crawled into bed with him, no matter the consequences. Stepping lightly out of bed, as not to wake the still figure in the bed beside her, she tiptoed over to the paneled door and shut it tenderly behind her.

…

Ron grabbed for his wand on the old kitchen table, raising it to chest level, as he realised Hermione was at the kitchen door.

“I come in peace!” Hermione said softly. He apparently hadn’t heard her come down the stairs.

“Sorry, habit I guess…” Ron said, gesturing towards his now lowered wand. Hermione knew what he meant. She never used to feel so wary at the Burrow. She never jumped when something sounded expectantly. Before her reflex would have been to glare at Fred and George, as they’d have been the source of the noise, but now her subconscious automatically presumed she was in mortal danger.

“I know.” Hermione replied. “I’m so jumpy now.” Ron nodded, understanding. “Mind if I sit?” She asked.

“Yeah, of course.” Ron said slowly. “Want tea?” He asked before she sat down at the large wooden table.

“Please.” He left his place, Hermione taking it as he poured her a mug of steaming liquid. When he returned from the kitchen counter, Ron sat in the chair beside her, which Bill usually occupied. Hermione began tracing the letters that Ron had carved into the tarnished wood.

“Can’t sleep either then?” Ron asked. Hermione shook her head. 

The air was tense. They were used to silence. In the weeks spent together, isolated from the rest of the world, they had grown accustomed to the stretches of quiet whilst they were thinking, retreating into their own minds. It had been a comfortable silence. Not anymore. Before nothing was unsaid, lingering in the air. Tonight was different. Hermione could feel butterflies in her tummy, not the pleasant sort that appear when you’re nervous; but the kind that push angrily against the surface, desperate to be free, the kind that materialise when you’re full of guilt. When you feel so bad and awful for your misdoing the butterflies can’t stand the shame that bubbles inside of you, pounding against the insides of your stomach, determinedly trying to escape the overwhelming mass of guilt slowly choking them…

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Hermione burst out. Her sudden outburst had started Ron, he had gotten to his feet in alarm. Realising there was no danger, except maybe his mother being awoken and extremely mad, he sat down again on the small kitchen chair.

“Merlin you scared me! What are you going on about?” He asked.

“I’m sorry!” Hermione repeated, tears began to leak from the corner of her almond eyes.

“I gathered! But what for?” Ron looked searchingly into Hermione’s eyes, which were now glazed with tears, he rose from his chair once more to comfort her. It was an awkward hug as Hermione was sat down, but she appreciated it none the less. Ron patted her clumsily on the back, whispering soothing words into her bushy hair. She dried her eyes from over his shoulder, making herself calm down. Ron crouched down in front of her, balancing on the balls of his bare feet, he placed his large hands on Hermione’s knees to steady himself. The warmth of them seeped through her cotton pajamas, making her feel giddy; almost making her decide against bringing up what was upsetting her so.

“For earlier. Th-the kiss. I didn’t mean anything, I promise. A-and I’m so sorry Ron, I tried to find you to explain, because I knew you were upset.” Wretched tears sprang from her eyes once more, obscuring her vision. Ron’s face became a blur with a nest of red resting on his head. When she wiped the tears away angrily, she saw that he was smiling at her.

“I’m not mad at you, just Ginny really, she made you do it.” Hermione beamed. He wasn’t mad at her! 

“She was just trying to make you jealous…” Hermione trailed off, regretting mentioning it.

“Well it worked. Harry told me why she did it.” Hermione had resumed her tracing of Ron’s name, lost in her thoughts, she was only half listening to what he was saying. Ron took hold of her hand, jogging her out of her reverie. “He explained why Ginny felt the need to jog me to my senses. I just wish she could have found a better way.” He gave a shaky laugh. “I’m sorry, for not fixing things between us.”

“Fixing?” Hermione asked, not knowing what was broken in the first place.

“N-no, not that we need fixing, just you know, mending the cracks, we, I mean I, kind of fell apart, after— after Fred. I forgot about us. I forgot about everything. The guilt just, it ate me up, and nothing was real. And then you came, and it was like a light, you know? I just had to pull on this silver cord, the more and the harder I tugged, the clearer you were. You were my lifeline, you guided me through a dark tunnel, helped me out of the deepest part of my mind.” Hermione was crying again, nothing could have kept her eyes dry through that. ”I did this, when I was fourteen.” He had guided her hand to the leg of the table, and placed it over a minute scribble. Hermione had to squint to see what it said, she fingered it, trying to make out what it read. She heard a click as Ron dispersed light from the Deluminator, she could see clearly now. Her heart warmed. 

A ragged heart, with sharp edges, and the letters H.G had been carved into the thick leg of the dinner table.

She turned to Ron. He looked at her questioningly. 

“I’ve wanted to show you that for a while, and…” He stared down at her, taking a step closer. There was virtually no space between them now. Hermione raised her eyebrows, encouraging him to continue. Not speaking for a while, she parted her lips, about to ask him what was the matter, but she never got the chance.

Ron bent his head, and kissed her on the lips. Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise, but she soon closed them and began to kiss him back. It had been almost a month since they had returned from Hogwarts, a long time since Ron and she had been in the Room of Requirement, since they had locked lips; but the sweet strawberry taste of Ron’s full lips seemed strangely familiar. He had wrapped his arms around her, which she was glad for, as her knees didn’t seem capable of supporting herself at the present moment. Her arms had been hanging limp by her side, much like the rest of her body, they had become paralyzed by sweet surprise. Now she placed one on Ron’s broad steady shoulders, and raked the other through his hair, she felt his body shiver with pleasure. Ron attempted to run his hands through Hermione’s hair, but when he encountered several large knots, he resorted to running them up and down her back, playing with the hem line of her shirt, she laughed at this, her petite frame shaking within his arms, he smiled in return, which she felt, rather than saw.

“Evening.” Said George from behind them. Ron and Hermione broke apart suddenly. Hermione had forgotten that he had taken Luna home. Why’s he back so late? She wondered. “Don’t mind me, I’m off to bed.” And with a wink in Ron’s direction, he hurried out of the room.

Hermione dared not talk, not wanting the taste of Ron’s lips to ever leave hers. She felt herself blush furiously under his gaze. They stood for a moment, just watching each other, amazed at the affect they had on one another. Hermione’s stomach did back flips, still feeling giddy from their perfect kiss.

“I’ve wanted to do that.” Ron finished at last.


End file.
